


Dreaming Loosely; or Five Ways Morgana Became Queen of Camelot

by shopfront



Series: 100_women [5]
Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: AU, Community: 100_women, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different realities where Morgana ended up ruling Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Nimueh manipulated Morgana’s visions to send Arthur and Merlin off on an impossible quest, leaving Morgana to rule Camelot in Arthur’s place.

**Author's Note:**

> Theme: 043. Dreams
> 
> Warnings continued: implied mind control/dubious consent in chapter one.
> 
> Each chapter of this series stands alone.

She comes awake clawing for air, images and sounds spinning away from her, and the cold of the room making her gasp. Her dreams hadn't been cold, they'd been full of fire and heat and overwhelmed by despair.

As usual, Gwen is at her bedside to wake and calm her before Morgana has let go of the vision enough to snap back to reality. For a moment, she sees long flowing tresses instead of Gwen's hair carefully pinned up, demanding blue eyes instead of Gwen's loyal brown, and she wants to grab her by the shoulders and kiss her instead of let Gwen reassure her.

"It was just a dream, my lady. It was just a dream." But was it, really? Morgana's been having the same visions for weeks now. First they came with images of Merlin conquering Albion with magic in his hands and Arthur by his side, and all lay peaceful and happy at their feet, but her visions have been changing. Peace shifting into war, prosperity into neglect, and while Merlin and Arthur were still riding side by side they weren't riding across the hills of a united Albion. Merlin didn't wield his magic, and they were staying close to Camelot, and everything was falling apart in their hands.

It's horrible, and Morgana can't understand it. She shakes her head to clear it and gives Gwen a weak smile.

"Can I get you anything?" Gwen is still smiling reassuringly and holding her hand, as if she could possibly frighten away Morgana's nightmares of the future with her very presence. No, that is unkind. She knows Gwen, sweet Gwen, is only trying to help her.

"No, I'm fine. Please, don't let me keep you from your rest," Morgana says, and shifts a little on her mattress, as though to get comfortable and sleep again. She can see that Gwen doesn't believe her, but she's too polite to say anything, so she is forced to withdraw from the chamber after a few more half-hearted offers to fetch drinks or a potion from Gaius or build up the fire.

In the silence that follows, Morgana gazes sightlessly at the curtains around her bed, and tries to drag her thoughts away from the woman in her dreams. She's tall and elegant; she smiles and beckons at Morgana, and for a very short while the destruction slows. Stops. For the smallest of moments, Morgana can look into her blue eyes and return her smile and believe in a better future than she's been seeing, and then the woman fades away and Albion burns once more.

It's insane. Morgana doesn't know who she is, or even if she's real, but she feels safer in her visions while she's there.

 

* * * * *

 

She's terrified the first time she has a vision while she's awake. It feels like there are a thousand images laid over each other that she's racing to keep up with, and she can see Arthur reaching to catch her at the same time as he kneels to accept a King's crown. Merlin is running to fetch Gaius, and he's killing a dragon, and he's telling Arthur that he will always be by Arthur's side. Gwen is fluttering around her, and she's waving to a crowd of people, and she's kissing that fake knight… what was his name? Lancelot, she's kissing Lancelot, and Uther is dead many times over, and there's so many things happening and so much noise and it hurts, _it hurts_, and that's about when Morgana thinks she passed out.

When she regains consciousness she feels the cool press of lips to her forehead and sees black hair and blue eyes, and the tail end of a red dress slipping out the door, and then there's Gaius standing over her and Uther behind him - and for a second, Morgana quakes to the bottom of her very soul. She had a vision in front of Uther. Did she speak, or moan, or give herself away? Is she already in the dungeon, or… no. She's on her own bed and everyone looks very concerned.

"Lady Morgana, can you hear me?" Gaius is very definitely hovering, so she struggles to choke out an affirmative, but everything aches and it's difficult, as though her own body is rebelling against her.

"Is she alright?" Uther demands and steps closer, not quite shoving Gaius out of the way while Morgana watches Uther with wide eyes, because even a King knows better than to remove the physician when you want his patient to recover.

"Just a touch of dehydration, Sire, like I said. Our days have been very hot lately, despite our cool nights, and the current court fashions are very heavy."

Uther's shoulders fall in relief, and Gaius respectfully steps back from the bed and instructs Gwen and Merlin to fetch fresh cloths and water for her, leaving Arthur and Uther on either side of bed like soldiers guarding the gate. The look on Uther's face still resembles the look she saw on Arthur's as he rushed to catch her, and she supposes one of them must have carried her up here, but it's all too difficult to puzzle through now so she just smiles at them and lets herself drift off to sleep. Her head still hurts, but she fancies she can feel delicate fingers combing through the hair at her temples.

 

* * * * *

Merlin's riding a stallion. He looks vibrant and brave, and he wields a sword in his hands and looks able to ride and fight at Arthur's side alongside all the knights of Camelot. Merlin, fighting with the knights. Some part of Morgana is aware enough to know that it's absurd, because Merlin is so _clumsy_, not at all like a knight, and even if he was capable of riding into battle with Arthur and surviving, there was no way he needed to fight a battle with an ordinary sword.

"This is important," comes a whisper from behind her, and with it comes a hand that strokes her neck and tucks her hair away and out of her eyes so she can see clearly. "Look!" it cries, and Morgana doesn't need to turn her head to know who is speaking, so she looks.

The knights have all been knocked from their horses, and Morgana fights the keening sound rising in her throat when she sees how many of them are lying too still on the ground. Merlin and Arthur are deep in the fray, their backs to each other, and Merlin's sword is dancing almost as swiftly as Arthur's when a robed figure steps through the chaos and raises a hand towards them.

Morgana starts in surprise, and the scene seems to hesitate, pausing long enough for her to examine the face under the robe before the figure shifts and then he is shadowed once more. The eyes are the same, and the delicate features. His very skin still glows with a faint, luminescent kind of power. She raises a hand in grief to cover her face.

"Mordred," she breathes, and the voice behind her replies with a euphoric affirmation.

"Look," the woman says again. "He is important."

Which he, she wants to ask, but everything is moving again so fast she can barely keep up. Mordred starts chanting, and Merlin nearly loses his head it distracts him so thoroughly. Mordred raises his hand still more, and points at Arthur who is too busy fighting for his life to notice, and then Merlin lunges for Arthur as Morgana's ears are filled with the crackling sound of strong magic and everyone is thrown to the ground. When the disorientation passes, Morgana finds herself sprawled across the strange woman, who is stroking her hair and trying to help her sit up.

"What happened?" she croaks.

"Everything and nothing."

Bewildered, Morgana struggles to disentangle herself and looks for Merlin and Arthur. When she finds them, she almost wishes she hadn't. It's like her visions of Arthur drowned in a lake all over again, and for a second everything sways dangerously.

Merlin is crouched, sobbing over Arthur's still body.

"Why… what… why didn't he-

"He couldn't confess who he was, so he hid away his powers and let them fall into disuse."

"Merlin wouldn't do that," Morgana protests, and stumbles to her feet, only to trip over her own hems and rip open her hands on the uneven ground. She chokes back a wail. "He wouldn't, he wouldn't. He wouldn't let-

"Arthur can resemble his father in some things a little too closely," the woman interrupts and grabs her by the chin, eyes searching Morgana's face and a knowing smile teasing her lips. "I think you know what I mean."

"Arthur is nothing like-"

"He is alike enough!" she snaps, and throws a hand out wide. "This is what will happen because Merlin has lost the nerve to confess. He could have been one of the greatest wielders of magic and the old religion, and he could have brought greatness back to Camelot, but he still chooses not to!"

She stands, and throws a hard glance at Morgana. Her eyes are demanding again, as they always are, eventually.

"You have to wake up now, Morgana. Wake up, and remember what is important." And so she does.

 

* * * * *

 

Things go on like before. Morgana watches as Uther hardens himself still further against all things magic, until he's beyond even her pleas, and how trying to fulfill Uther's expectations twists Arthur a little more each day. On and on they go in the same old dance, and just as predicted, Merlin continues to hide his magic.

The night when Nimueh comes to Morgana in her dreams and confesses her name is imprinted forever in her mind. The rage and betrayal, a name she has only rarely heard but has never been connected with good. For a short while, every day does not seem to be like the other, but time passes and still Uther grows cold, Arthur grows conflicted, and lies continue to fall from Merlin's lips. Nimueh stays far, far away during all of this. Morgana doesn't know where she is, only that she's not in her head - but that doesn't mean she's not in Morgana's thoughts. There's no one to press intangible lips against her forehead when she's ill, or comb imaginary fingers through her hair when she's worried - and though Gwen does try to comfort her, she is still far too proper about the difference in their stations.

Then another Druid falls under the axe of Uther's executioner and leaves Morgana filled with memories of both past and future, and that evening Nimueh comes back to her when she finally falls into a troubled sleep. Morgana rages with all of her strength. She yells and accuses and beats her fists against Nimueh, and Nimueh accepts it all. When Morgana grows weak and tired of being angry, Nimueh grabs her and drags her close, locking her arms tight around Morgana when she thrashes, and distracts her with the heat and passion of Morgana's earlier visions, the touch and passion she's been longing for.

"The things I'm accused of aren't told fairly," she says, and "I only ever made the choices I did because there were no other options."

She strokes Morgana's back and tugs teasingly at the ties of her dress, while she devours Morgana's lips and holds her close and weakening.

"You can be another option, Morgana," she promises, and leans forward to drop a kiss on her cheek.

"How could I possibly be another option? You may have noticed I'm not _Princess_ Morgana." She frowns, but lets Nimueh pull them to ground and get settled more comfortably. The vision of battle that Nimueh first appeared in finally fades away, and the grass grows under them and flowers bloom at their feet when Nimueh reaches out to stroke her hair. Morgana doesn't want to let herself to lean into the caress and holds herself stiff, but neither can she find the strength to resist Nimueh's touch.

"No, but you could make sure Merlin reveals his magic to Arthur, so that when Arthur is crowned King they can bring magic back to Camelot."

Morgana pulls away at that. "I won't betray Merlin," she declares hotly.

"Not even for the good of Camelot, or indeed, for the whole of Albion?" Nimueh asks, and drops her hand to stroke Morgana's arm instead.

"To speak of Merlin's magic behind his back would be a betrayal," she states, but even she can hear the waver in her voice. Morgana has always stood by what she thinks is right, no matter the consequences, but how can she weigh this up?

"What if there was a way to help without… speaking of…"

Morgana's head shoots up and she looks around frantically, but Nimueh has faded just as quickly as her voice. Morgana is alone in what has now become a rather pleasant meadow. There is a tall oak tree, its branches thick and heavy with foliage, at the other end of the small clearing. Before there had been a shattered stump, its base surrounded by heaping corpses and the random destruction of battle. There is a familiar flash of red and Nimueh is standing before it.

"There could easily be some way to guarantee Merlin would reveal his magic to Arthur," she suggests and reaches up to toy with the leaves above her head, her voice carrying clearly across the meadow.

Morgana picks up her skirts and hurries towards her, imperially raising her chin and ignoring Nimueh when she laughs at her for using such a physically restricted means of travel here, where reality mean nothing. "And how am I supposed to arrange that in Camelot, of all places?" she asks tartly.

"A magical quest often requires magical means," Nimueh riddles, and pulls Morgana close to kiss her.

"Wait, how-"

"I'll remind them of the Grail," she smiles and begins fades away again. "It is morning, Morgana. Remember me then." When Morgana awakes, the whole court is already abuzz with talk of a new bard who comes bearing tales of quests and old artifacts able to bring peace to the whole of Albion. Morgana hides her shock with a smile when Merlin's eyes light up at the news and he starts tugging on Arthur's sleeve to drag him out of the room, and Uther sits and chuckles over the ridiculous thought of bringing a magic-free peace to Camelot using an ancient magical artifact.

The bard regales them with a song about magical deeds done to win a magical artifact that brings peace, and Morgana only wonders for a moment why everyone seems so deeply relaxed that the mere mention of magic in front of the King does not frighten them. It is almost as if the whole court has been subtly bespelled, and Morgana smiles sweetly over her goblet at the bard - making him falter minutely in his performance - while she thinks of red dresses, a laughing smile, and smug blue eyes. Some risk is worth the safety of all of Albion, she decides.

'Somebody has to take responsibility around here, of course I don't mind representing Camelot while Arthur is off playing with his toys,' she practices in her head when she's called for an audience with Uther later that day. 'Let Arthur and Merlin go on their quest.'


	2. Morgana and Merlin take Camelot from Arthur for the good of all Albion.

Morgana has grown to treasure her real dreams over her visions, when they're not nightmares. Her visions are always of the future, but her dreams are more mundane and about her past. It's a rare occasion when she cannot separate the two and so her dreams are always highly memorable. Lately, she's taken to dreaming of Merlin, and their times together when they were younger. It has been easy to forget how extremely large Merlin's ears had appeared when his hair was shorter, and now her dreams have reminded her that it's worth reaching over to tug his ears when he's in a snit. It nets her an amused glare that lightens up when she breaks down into gales of laughter, and Morgana doesn't think there is ever such a thing as too much levity in their days.

She often dreams fondly of Arthur and Gwen as well, which is always an unexpected but pleasurable bonus. She misses them both deeply, as does Merlin, so while watching them all cavorting as young people in her dreams is achingly bittersweet; she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Sometimes she sits on her throne and she wonders if it was worth it, even as she surveys a peaceful court and listens to reports of how smoothly Camelot is starting to run. To have given up their Arthur and Gwen is a hurt that runs deep, and she doesn't think it will ever begin to fade away.

At night, Merlin gives voice to her thoughts while they lay tangled in bed, and they mourn again together.

But when morning comes, they walk out as one and smile at their subjects. The safety of Camelot is worth their sacrifice, however painfully it may weigh on them.

*** * * * ***

"How could you do this?" Arthur shouts and paces the room. The rugs are all in disarray under his angry feet, and at least one chair has been knocked on its side. "You betrayed me, Morgana! When I loved you like a sister!"

"Please," she starts to say, but he's just so angry. "You have to look around you, Arthur. Look at what you're doing to your kingdom!"

"Traitor!" he cries again, and reaches for the sword that has never been there before. He lunges forward, and she can't help but scream.

_Morgana! Morgana, wake up!_

There are strong hands pinning her to the bed. Her terror rises in her throat like a physical thing, and she thrashes, but they're too strong to dislodge. 'Of course they're too strong, I've been run through,' she thinks a little hysterically.

"Morgana, wake up!"

The dream recedes for a moment, and Merlin's face wavers into view to dislodge Arthur's snarl.

"Was it a vision?" Merlin sounds incredibly wary, and only tentatively starts to ease his weight off her shoulders when she gulps.

"No," she croaks. "Just another nightmare."

Merlin eases himself down next to her, one hand coming up to stroke her face. "Well, it's over now," he says, and shares her grimace at his awkward soothing. "Same one?"

"Mostly. He was even angrier, if that's possible." Merlin leans down to kiss away the tear that escapes down her cheek, and she turns into his embrace desperately.

"We did the right thing," he says and tightens his arms around her, but he never sounds certain when they're alone at night and Morgana never feels it either. It is easy to be certain when they can see a magical Camelot flourishing around them again, but much too hard when there is nothing but the memory of angry friends and loved ones left to confront them in their sleep.

*** * * * ***

It is not unusual for Morgana to consider whether they would castigate themselves less in private if there was still a familiar face by their sides. Someone to understand and share their burden, but mostly someone to dislike their actions as much as they themselves do. Someone who can see through their public faces, and see their self-doubt underneath everything else. So, in some ways, it is both a relief and a torture to hear that the great and heralded knight Lancelot has ridden up to the gates of Camelot and requested lodgings and an audience with the new King and Queen of Albion.

He bows to Merlin with an ironic 'sire' and quirk of his lips after he is ushered into their private audience chamber. His bow to Morgana is more genuine, more like the Lancelot she remembers from their first meeting, but she can still hear the admonition beneath his polite words. She understands. Because of her station, he cannot voice his disquiet at seeing Merlin and herself sitting in the place of another common and royal pair so close to their hearts, but neither can he stop feeling it.

"You came alone?" is the first question to leave either of their lips, and he nods sadly. Quickly they usher him to sit at the small table laden with food and drink for him after his long journey, before settling themselves to receive his story, as and when he wishes to tell him.

He speaks of ferrying Gwen away from the battle; away from everyone and where they had ever known. They are already well familiar with this part of the story, so he speaks only briefly of it. Then he regales them with how they travelled and loved and grieved for Arthur, and set out to make a new life in a place where the names Gwen and Lancelot had no meaning, as Morgana and Merlin had bade them.

"But she could not live with it. To be honest, neither could I."

"We… have not gone without our share of private struggle," Morgana rushes to assure him when he lifts his head to stare at them with vacant eyes. "But where is Gwen now?"

"I left her near the tomb where Arthur sleeps."

Morgana's hand flies to her mouth; Merlin huffs sharply with surprise, and both sit straight and tense in their chairs. Gwen has…

"Surely she realises that she can't-"

"Open the tomb? Yes, yes she realises." Lancelot sighs and shakes his head, returning his gaze to his picked-over plate, and begins toying with a fork. "We understand why it had to be done, my lady, and because of that I don't believe Gwen would ever dare undo the enchantment early, even if anyone had the strength to break what you both forged. She said she just had to be nearby. That she could make a life with a different name and tend the area as penance for her role in the whole… situation."

"Oh, Gwen," Merlin breathes mournfully, and collapses back heavily.

Morgana can't speak. Her heart is constricted with the thought of how much pain Gwen must still feel to make such a decision, to be so wracked with guilt over the damage done by her betrayal that she could not stay with her lover and try to make the best of a horrible situation.

They each sit in their own thoughts, and wonder at how things could go so wrong, so fast.

"I see Arthur's damned priests have finally left," Lancelot says eventually to break the long silence.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Once they realised they had no one of power left to manipulate they simply packed up and disappeared."

"I think it helped that they knew we had control of Camelot and no love for them," Merlin says and hides a chuckle.

"Let us hope they aren't still around when Albion calls Arthur forth to protect them again."

"Which brings us back to why you're here, Lancelot." Merlin's eyes are intent and his expression sharp. They all know why. Lancelot could unsettle everything they have been trying to stabilise Albion against. He could undo all their hard work.

Lancelot acknowledges the unspoken threat in Merlin's words, and reaches for a wine glass. "Rest easy, old friend. I have no interest in again being the cause of Albion falling back into chaos. I simply want to make amends."

"How would you go about doing that?"

"I want to serve under you both and rejoin the Knights of Camelot. My actions brought destruction to King Arthur and to the kingdom, and if I cannot make amends by caring for Gwen, then I wish to protect the people of Albion once more."

****

* * * * *

That night, Merlin sends away Morgana's handmaids and unlaces her dress himself. His hands are warm against her waist, and his hair falls in his eyes as he kisses her throat.

Lancelot has been given quarters down the hall, and while they can never have again what they've lost, it is a small comfort to have him returned to them.

Morgana wraps a hand around the back of Merlin's neck and drags him down to the mattress with her, sighs into his mouth and wraps herself around him.

Yes, it is small, but their comforts are always small these days.

****

* * * * *

"You're after my crown, I know you are, and you pulled Merlin into it," Arthur rages again and again. "I know you, Morgana. I know how conniving you can be. You plotted to kill my father once!"

Morgana watches Arthur pace sadly and repeats again and again that she does not want a throne, certainly not his.

"Then why would you do this?" he rails over and over again, even as his eyes plead with her not to hurt him this way.

"You're destroying all of Albion, Arthur. You let your priests persecute magic in a manner far worse than Uther ever did. Your knights no longer protect the people, but seek the impossible Grail or hunt down Lancelot for sport. Your queen is imprisoned and every day you allow your priests to speak more and more of execution and burning her, for daring to love another."

"She betrayed me, just like you!"

"What she did to you was horrible, Arthur, but you cannot let it keep blinding you. You are always first a King, not a jealous husband!"

Arthur stares at her sadly. "You were my family. You weren't meant to hurt me."

"I didn't want to Arthur, but more was at stake than just you."

She comes awake with a sob, and lets Merlin pull her closer in his sleep. It won't ever stop hurting, but maybe, just maybe, it might now start to ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amanda and voldything for the beta help.


	3. Morgana's dreams didn't warn her that Merlin was about to break Arthur.

It was, of course, a complete disaster when Arthur found out about Merlin's magic.

Gwen dragged her from her bed with unusual force, and the light of dawn had just begun to fill the castle when Morgana arrived at the doors of Arthur's chambers. The room was conspicuously empty despite the commotion, except for Arthur, who was standing still in the middle of the room with his back to the door and his shoulders hunched. When he spoke to her it was with a voice rough with anger, and the strain on his face - now familiar to her after watching him spend weeks at the side of a sickbed - seemed even harsher than usual.

It had been over long before she'd arrived. Arthur's guards had taken Merlin straight to the dungeons, and Arthur's jaw was already clenched as stiff and unmoving as Uther's had ever been.

It was the morning of Uther's funeral and for Arthur, the morning after a long, sleepless night of grief.

She just doesn't understand why her dreams never warned her of this.

 

****

* * * * *

 

They had all tried to plead and reason with him, but he wouldn't be moved. Morgana spent her days shouting and screaming, and her nights dreaming about how deeply betrayed Arthur felt, and how the kingdom would suffer for it. But the timing was horrible, and as far as Arthur was concerned the whole mess was compounded by years of hiding and lies. He remained determined to honour his fathers legacy and refused to listen to them try to convince him otherwise.

What else would they have him do?

Did they really value Merlin over his father's memory?

Merlin, who had led them on such a merry little game.

Merlin, who tricked and cajoled and lied straight to their faces without a care or a hint of remorse.

The morning of the execution, Arthur looked twice as haggard and a thousand times more conflicted than the morning of Uther's funeral, but it didn't matter. Merlin's cell was empty and Arthur proceeded to pull the castle apart, even though they all knew there wasn't any point. Morgana smiled and pictured the bumbling apology Merlin would make for causing such a fuss, and refused to pretend to be anything other than deeply satisfied that he had escaped.

When Arthur turned his search on the people closest to Merlin, he stayed his hand just short of chaining her up like his father would have done, but he couldn't be calmed.

Eventually Arthur took his knights and raged his way across Camelot, burning out his grief with sweat and dirt and battles with bandits and gigantic creatures. For a full cycle of the moon, Morgana wooed dignitaries, ran the castle, and sat in on audiences about problems the people of Camelot were experiencing. She didn't like having to run the castle because Arthur had taken himself off in a rage, but things continued on as usual and the work was enjoyable. The knights rode back into Camelot without their intended prisoner, but their heads were held high and Arthur didn't let himself fall apart until he was safely shut away from the rest of the court.

"You know better than this," Morgana says that night, over dinner. "We all owe Merlin better than this."

"Do we? I don't believe that."

"You know magic isn't evil in and of itself. You _know_ that Arthur, just like you knew I was having visions and hiding it from Uther and did nothing about it."

Arthur called for and devoured his food, nodding at all the right intervals.

"All three of us worked on sneaking Mordred out of the castle, and proving Gwen's innocence. We all protected people with magic who weren't using it for evil. You can't deny now that having magic shouldn't immediately brand Merlin as someone to hunt down and execute, not after we helped all those people and you kept my own secrets!"

"Merlin is different. He didn't trust me like you did, even though he had endless opportunities."

"How could he have possibly told you anything?" Morgana frowns, dropping her fork with a clang. "Merlin was your servant, and you were the son of a king who hated magic!"

"Why don't you understand?" Arthur snaps and stands, shoving his chair back so roughly that it skitters across the stone floor.

"I don't see why you don't understand." Morgana throws her hands up and matches Arthur's glare.

"He didn't just choose to hide this from me. He denied it outright. Merlin lied to us over and over and _over_ again and I had no idea!"

"Oh, honestly Arthur. Merlin wouldn't even have been able to confess his secrets to me as I am now, a stand-in ruler with no claim to throne, and you were his prince and his master. Merlin-"

"It's not the magic that's the problem, it's how devious he was revealed to be. I'm not my father. I can separate the two."

"- was your _servant_ and-"

"He had many chances to confide in me."

"_When?_"

Arthur favours her with a long, wry look and calls for a servant to clear their table. The dismissal smarts just as much as it always did from Uther, though Arthur is less cruel about it.

 

****

* * * * *

 

For a long time Arthur comes and goes from Camelot whenever the whim takes him, his knights always by his side. He pays no heed to the stability of his kingdom in his absence as long as Morgana is there to hand everything over to. Their horse pound new, wide tracks through the kingdom, always in search of something. Publicly they seek evil sorcerers, or people who bring down horrible crimes on others for benignly using magic.

Privately, they all know they're searching for Merlin, though no one is sure what will be done with him if he's found. Not even Arthur.

The castle is full of fanfare and outrageous displays each time he returns, and sometimes he stays. Often only for few days, but if Camelot and Morgana is lucky it might extend into weeks, and together they can accomplish what Morgana does not have the authority to do alone. On one memorable occasion the weeks stretch into months and the manic court festivities begin to settle down again into something a little more like comfort. A little more like stability.

It isn't until Arthur has stayed still long enough to participate in three tournaments, begin training new knights, and take on some of the duties that had been relegated to Morgana in his absence, that she can bring herself to mention Merlin. She asks, again, how he could have been expected to trust in his master so completely but Arthur still refuses to answer and once again cuts their dinner short.

The next day an advisor brings up the topic of marriage, now that Arthur has returned to Camelot on a more permanent basis. Arthur flies at him, and rages without any regard for control or reputation, displaying real emotion in front of the court for the first time in years. The advisor cringes before it, and Arthur turns his gaze on the rest of the room before storming off in search of his knights.

His expression is angry instead of self-deprecating, but she recognises it anyway, and feels like a fool.

By morning Arthur and his knights have slipped through a side gate and gone again, just one more transitory visit to be added to a long list. They're gone for weeks, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but on this return Arthur does not bother to send ahead to notify them. The entire castle household immediately starts tripping over itself to dazzle him on not notice, but Arthur just strides through the bustle and heads straight for her chambers.

"Arthur! I didn't know you were coming," Morgana says, while Gwen lets herself out of the room.

"You didn't foresee us?" Arthur eyes her for a moment, then nods. "I suppose we did only start back this morning, and we won't be staying."

"Why not? The castle is already in an uproar for you."

"How much of an uproar can they get into with no warning?" Arthur chuckles at her seriousness when she won't share his smile.

"Really, Arthur, I don't see why you can't stay long enough to give people a little more hope. You're the King of Camelot and there are some things that even I can't do. That we need a royal ruler for!"

"I know, but there've been reports of a many-headed beast a few days ride north. Camelot was simply along the way and more convenient than spending the night on the outskirts of another village. Besides, there was an administrative matter from last time that I wanted to clear up."

"Since when have you concerned yourself with the running of this kingdom lately?"

"I haven't. Which is rather the point," Arthur says gently, walking over to take Morgana by the hand. "You're my family, Morgana. I couldn't marry anyone else."

Morgana just stares. First at his face, and then at their joined hands.

"Don't look so startled," Arthur says, and squeezes her fingers gently. "I don't expect an answer right now. Take your time."

 

****

* * * * *

 

Morgana doesn't bother rousing herself early the next morning, and doesn't need to be told to know that the knights left long before dawn.

She stays curled in bed where it is warm and waits for Gwen to bring her a late breakfast, and braid her hair in silence so that Morgana can have a little time to think. She smiles very brightly though, and while Morgana has every intention of taking as much time as she likes, she squeezes Gwen's hand and smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amanda and voldything for the beta help.


	4. The Great Dragon loses Merlin's trust, but takes it in stride and begins calling to Morgana instead.

The voice first comes to her in her dreams the night Arthur is cured of the Questing Beast's bite. She doesn't think anything of it to begin with - after all, she's used to hearing and seeing all sorts of strange things in her head while she sleeps.

But this voice persists. It frequently follows her into her waking thoughts - as many of her dreams do - but it begins to linger longer than any other. Sometimes, she'll swear she can still hear it while Gwen strokes her hair and hugs her tight until she calms. Yet it always stops by the time Gwen finishes fussing and leaves her to sleep once more, so she thinks very little of it.

A single voice calling her name over and over is reall nothing compared the frequent visions she has of battles and strange beasts, and inexplicable magical acts, and Arthur dying over and over again.

So, it wasn't until she was walking through the lower levels of the castle one day that she started to take notice. There was an issue with food storage- no, it was something to do with a servant thrown in the dungeons- no it was. Oh, she can't remember anyway. Not that it matters why she was there. It was just the first time she heard the voice in her head when she wasn't already dreaming. The first time in the light of day - not that much sunlight reached those corridors - that she heard that voice. She almost suspected herself of sleep-walking, except that she gasped out loud and one of the castle maids came up to her to ask if she was alright. And if she hadn't caught the same maid looking at her strangely in the courtyard days later, she still might have been tempted to write it off as a dream or a fantasy.

No, she hadn't been sleepwalking, or dreaming with her eyes open. Morgana is sure she heard that voice, and she doesn't understand why.

 

*** * * * ***

**   
**

 

First she goes to Gaius for help, but she can't seem to get the words out right. When she tells him what she heard and where she was at the time, he freezes and stares at her for a moment. She opens her mouth to try again but he just shushes her, and impresses upon her the importance of privacy in these matters. He says she's simply too tired to know her own surroundings, and that he has a new, stronger draught for her to try.

'It's just a lack of sleep, Morgana,' he pleads with her. 'Please, there's no reason to worry the King about such matters. Trust me, and try this. I'm sure you'll find everything is much clearer when you're well rested.'

So she goes; she takes the draught, and oh, how it fogs her head and makes her limbs heavy. She sleeps long and deep and scares Gwen when she has to be physically shaken awake in the morning. She stumbles while walking around Uther's audience room, and ends up being sent away when she can't speak anything but nonsense, and no. No, this won't do. She certainly doesn't feel more clear headed. Indeed, she's barely able to function, and no dreamed horror is worth this.

Morgana doesn't take the drug a second time, and she dreams vividly and horrifically and at length. She avoids Gaius' assessing eyes when she has to ask for a different draught the next morning.

The voice calls to her again that night, and once more long after Gwen has woken her, but she simply tries to ignore it.

 

*** * * * ***

**   
**

 

So it goes on. Arthur hunts when he has other responsibilities, and Merlin offers himself up to take the blame. Uther rants and continues to execute anyone accused of using magic. Gwen continues to wake Morgana from her nightmares, and occasionally something truly strange - usually involving magic or some mythical creature - happens in Camelot. But always, always, the disembodied voice reappears in her head each night.

It's weeks before she realises that the first time she heard him calling her while she was awake was significant not just in the hour, but also her location at the time. It takes quite a lot of planning and a great deal of assistance from Gwen before she manages to return alone to explore the lower levels of the castle well enough to find him.

The dragon. Under Camelot.

Morgana knew there was one somewhere reasonably close by. They all knew that. The last great conquest of Uther over magic. But _under the castle_, with frankly useless guards if she - the easily recognisable King's ward, with all her stupid, bothersome dresses and jewellery to rattle and rustle and give her away - could slip past them. She can't begin to understand how Uther deemed this a secure location for such a creature, given all his fears and paranoia.

So she wasn't expecting it, and she felt her legs weaken under her when she saw it. It was the great big scaly face that she knew from her dreams, where it was always roaring and breathing torrents of flame. It flapped down in front of her and she was tempted to turn and run, but she stiffened her shoulders and walked out onto the little rock ledge once it was settled and watching her.

"Have you been calling me?" she cried, and thrust her torch in front of herself defiantly.

"You wield that flame as though fire would scare me, little one."

_Yes,_ Morgana concedes to herself. _I suppose that's a little obvious._ Still, she doesn't let her grip falter, and simply squares her shoulders and straightens her back.

"So defiant for one with so strong a gift," it continues, and rears up a little, flapping its wings. The breeze stirs Morgana's skirts and flings her hair across her face to tickle her nose, and she struggles not to sneeze.

"What do you mean?"

"You have many gifts, Morgana. Gifts which could be put to better use if you had the freedom to use them openly."

"I don't understand-"

"Your empathy. Your lively mind-" Morgana's brow furrows, and she finally lets the weight of the torch lower her aching arm. "- and your dreams."

Morgana shakes her head. Hard.

"There is no point denying it. You heard my voice and followed it here, and I cannot speak so with those who have no power."

She stumbles backward off the ledge without taking her eyes off it. Him. The _dragon_ who has been speaking to her mind.

"There are many possible destinies," it intones seriously at her, and she's struggling not to fall apart, but there's a dragon in front of her talking about destiny and prophecy _and her dreams_. "You understand this. You've seen many possibilities in your own mind."

"I might have," she says, with her chin in the air as she presses herself bodily against cold stone at her back.

"We all have many possible destinies. You could have a great one, if you choose it. As could Arthur, by your side; Camelot, under your hand."

"Me? Rule Camelot?" She scoffs, and relaxes a little. It might be a dragon, but a slightly crazy dragon is somehow less intimidating. "Arthur and I will be given much more advantageous matches than each other."

Even if she doesn't want to leave her home.

"Perhaps to fulfill your greatest destiny, you must change that," it intones more seriously still and begins to flap its wings again, but she would have sworn it was laughing at her. If dragons can laugh - she's not sure that they can.

"Wait-" she cries, and nearly leaps too close to the edge in an instinctive bid to hold its attention, but the dragon is already launching itself away. "How am I meant to do that?" she finishes off quietly to herself.

There's no response but silence, so she gathers herself back up and begins the return climb to the castle proper.

 

*** * * * ***

**   
**

 

The dragon is no more helpful the next time Morgana manages to sneak away to see him, nor the time after that, and she starts cursing her own curiosity. He simply talks on and on about the importance of her staying with Arthur.

"Help him," he says. "Guide him, teach him, care for him. Protect him."

Yet he never tells her why, or how, nor the means with which she is meant to ensure that she won't be married to a lord from a distant realm to cement some alliance or treaty. As if she has any control. She is the King's ward, not his daughter or his sister. Uther may profess to care for her and respect her opinion on occasion, but it is only occasionally, and she isn't his family. Not by blood. There's no link in her to his beloved Igraine to sway his temper or his ambition. Her only choices - should he take it into his head to marry her off - would be to accept his decision, or to leave Camelot forever and make something of herself out of the kindness of strangers.

Morgana can take up a sword and defend herself. She can hold court over a feast and oversee the running of a castle and be entrusted with delicate, diplomatic issues. But she cannot choose her husband or the place in which she will live with him, and why can't the dragon see that it was pointless to ask her to? But still he tells her to wait, and be patient. He insists all will become clear in time, and that she simply needs to bide her time and stay by Arthur's side, to be his friend and his confidant.

"But he's insufferable," she cries. "He still behaves like a child, and a spoiled one at that! We've never gotten along easily!" It makes no difference. She wonders why she keeps returning, and yet, she can't stay away. If she does, he calls to her again, and she finds she wishes to speak to him anyway. He is the one creature who understands her visions, and who she can talk to about them without fear of reprisals. Morgana finds more peace sitting in the dark, with the smoke from the torch in her nose and throat while she chats with an incomprehensible magical creature, than she ever could have expected.

Sneaking away becomes harder and harder still. Her absences are noticed more because she hasn't been inclined to disappear on whims like Arthur always has. Morgana takes to spending what hours she has free of duties in the castle, and away from Arthur and the dragon both, wandering among the many small tower courtyards and secluded garden balconies in Camelot with Gwen. She never stays in one courtyard or garden for the afternoon though; instead she flits from place to place restlessly until it is openly considered difficult to track her down. People stop wondering when she can't be located, and instead assume she is reclining and admiring the view from a tower top or smelling flowers. Gwen reluctantly agrees to cover for her

She knows Gwen thinks she has a lover somewhere. When she asks her to say they've been on one of their castle-bound walks, when they've done no such thing, she is slow to agree. But she never speaks a word in reproach or fails in her promise. She knows there is danger to Morgana should she be caught - just not the danger she thinks - and she is, as always, steady and reliable.

Morgana's has begun to lose count of her visits when Merlin stumbles across her walking where she shouldn't be. There'd been a dozen, maybe more, before they collided in a deserted side corridor, and she panicked. Merlin is smilingly bewildered to find her there, and she looks at him beseechingly while she babbles up an excuse she can't remember afterwards and reaches for his arm. The smile drops from his face by the time he leaves her, she can see that much, and she finds herself unreasonably terrified. They're only a few turns away from the guarded entrance to the dragon's cavern and there's nowhere else he could think she was heading. She has to feign a lack of knowledge of the lower corridors, forsake her trip and return to Gwen's side, but he still watches her suspiciously afterward.

When she finally makes it to the cavern the next day, the dragon tells her not to worry about him.

"He is not important," is his final opinion, and from there on the subject is closed. He will not be roused to speak of Merlin again, and simply disappears into the gloom when she continues to try.

She stays away for days after that, prompted by worries of Merlin and by her own feelings of disgruntlement, until she hears him calling to her again. For the first time, it wakes her from her sleep, and Morgana listens to her own name being repeated over and over again in an empty room, rather than with Gwen by her side. She slips quietly through the halls, and past the dozing guards, and is shivering by the time she reaches the cavern.

"What do you want?" she calls quietly, as if night and day make any difference in this place.

"Tomorrow is important," the dragon's voice echoes through the cavern before she sees him. "You must be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For your destiny."

"But how-"

"Go to Arthur," the dragon says, nodding its head and shifting on its rock. "Go to him as soon as the sun has risen. He'll need you today, you must protect him."

"From _what_?" she cries desperately. There had been nothing in her dreams of Arthur, only strange creatures and endless stretches of forest.

"You must stand strong together," is all the reply she gets before it disappears again into the gloom. Morgana stays this time, and yells herself hoarse, but to no avail. By the time she drags herself back to her room, dawn has broken and the castle has broken. She shakes Gwen awake to dress her just as the first alarm sounds.

"Something practical today, Gwen," she says absentmindedly, and hovers at the window until Gwen has assembled all the appropriate things. There are knights gathered in the courtyard, talking heatedly amongst themselves, but neither Arthur nor Uther is in sight yet. "Good, there's still time," she mutters and relatches the window.

"My lady?"

"Nevermind, just help me dress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Amanda, voldything and ladydreamer for the beta help.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [100_women table](http://shopfront.dreamwidth.org/283810.html?style=mine).


End file.
